You're Coming with Me
by darkheadlights
Summary: Literati one-shot. Right after the disastrous Logan/Rory/Jess dinner scene at Rich Man's Shoe...


**A/N: Some stolen dialogue from "Let Me Hear Your Balalaikas Ringing Out." Forgive me, Amy. Also, sorry about ****_Bunheads_****.**

"Jess, wait," Rory called, spotting his dark head bobbing several yards away. At the sound of her voice, he halted and turned his head. "Jess, I'm sorry."

"We shouldn't have done this."

"He's just in a bad way lately."

"He's a _jerk_," Jess emphasized, stepping closer to her and gazing into her eyes.

She blinked. "In there? He was. Definitely. I'm so sorry."

"I read that guy the second I saw him. I should have begged off."

"Well, I didn't want you to," Rory said weakly.

"He better not come out here." Jess glowered at the restaurant, as if the whole fiasco was its fault.

"Please, Jess. He had a lot to drink. He's tired from traveling. This isn't him. I swear." Her words sounded false even to her own ears.

"What the hell is going on?" Jess exploded.

"I told you," Rory insisted, trying to believe in what she was saying so he would believe it too. "He's tired, and his family's bugging him right now…"

Jess waved a frustrated hand. "No, no. I mean with you. What's going on with _you_?"

Rory stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"You _know _what I mean. I know you better than anyone!" Jess flung his hands in the air. "This isn't you!"

"I…I don't know…" She touched her face. She felt dazed. She hadn't even had a drink.

"What are you doing?" Jess demanded. "Living at your grandparents' place, being in the DAR, no Yale…_why did you drop out of Yale_?" He was so angry.

"It's complicated." It was the answer she'd given anyone who asked. Most people didn't push the subject. Most people nodded politely and changed the subject. Jess wasn't most people.

"It's not!" he insisted. "It's _not _complicated."

"You don't know," she said weakly. He did know.

"He's right, it's not complicated at all." Rory's head reeled up and over, her eyes widening. Logan stepped out of the shadows. He'd been watching them. Listening to them. For how long, she had no idea.

"Logan, I – " He held up a hand. The other was still holding his Scotch. How had he gotten it out of the bar? Rory imagined him flirting with the waitress to get his way. He always got his way.

Logan barked out a harsh, humorless laugh. Rory had never heard him make that sound before. She glanced at Jess, and that seemed to confirm something for him. "Go with him," he said.

"Wh – what?" Rory stuttered.

"Go with him," Logan repeated, slower. His expression was entirely neutral. It scared her. "That's what you want."

"No – "

"Rory. It's obvious. Ask anyone in that restaurant. Ask the drunk at the end of the bar. He's passed out, but he still sees it. I saw it. You want _him_." He jabbed a finger in Jess' direction. Jess, to his credit, looked flummoxed. Logan gave her a hard look. "I hate for it to end this way," he drawled. "Sorry, Rory." He turned heel and walked back inside, and Rory was left with a decision. It was no Sophie's choice, but still she stood, rooted to the spot, and stared at Jess.

"Ror, if you want to go back in there, that's okay," he said gently, seeming to believe she'd had a kind of mental break. _No break_, she thought. _Breakthrough, maybe_.

She snorted, surprising him. "No!" She paused, her eyes searching wildly. "No, I hate him." The words tasted foreign on her tongue, and even Jess looked startled.

"You clearly don't," he pointed out. "You've been dating him for how long?" He grimaced. "Sleeping with him for how long? Your grandmother was probably already picking out the wedding china. Rory Huntzberger." He twitched and Rory felt like she was going to throw up. Her head hurt. Her _brain _hurt.

"I need coffee," she mumbled. A reflex. Any difficult situation and caffeine was the first step towards a solution.

"Do you…" He hesitated. "Do you want to go get a cup? Maybe we should have done that in the first place," he said wryly. "Avoid this situation altogether."

"Let's go," she said simply, leading the way to Jess' car. "There's a Starbucks two blocks over. I know you don't buy into the whole 'corporation' thing, but it's the only coffee place open this late." She glanced over her shoulder. "Coming?"

Jess placed a cautious hand on the small of Rory's back as they entered the Starbucks. It was cool and smelled strongly of coffee beans, waking him up slightly. "Rory," he hissed into her ear. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Jess, why do you ask?" she replied, taking her place in line.

"Think about what you're doing. Hell, I wouldn't be okay, in your shoes." _Not least because they look insanely uncomfortable_, he thought, staring down at her tiny feet, squeezed into a pair of expensive-looking heels. "I'd pretend to be, but…" He trailed off, watching her profile. Her face was set.

"Hi, venti caramel macchiato, extra whip and two extra shots?" The barista nodded and turned away to make Rory's stomach-turning order.

"Just a…black coffee," Jess provided when the girl looked at him expectantly. He shelled out the incredible six dollars for their orders, his mouth twisting wryly as he reminisced on Rory's statement that he didn't go in for the whole 'corporation' thing. She knew him.

"Let's sit," she said, taking a table by the window and gulping a sip of her coffee concoction.

"You're going to be up all night," Jess pointed out, nodding his head at the huge cup.

She shrugged. "Maybe we'll be talking all night." Her sauciness took him aback. The Rory he knew wasn't like this.

"How much did you have to drink?" he asked.

She glanced at her cup. "Two, three sips. You're sitting right there watching me, silly."

He sighed. "Alcohol, Rory. How much alcohol?"

She raised her eyebrows. "None." He watched her suspiciously.

"Jess, we haven't really spoken or seen each other in years," she pointed out unnecessarily. He knew. "I'm not the same naïve little private school girl you loved." She stopped short, gulping the last syllable, and looked at him. He stared steadily back. He wasn't about to deny it. Mollified, she cast her eyes downward and rubbed an imaginary stain on the table.

"You still read?" he asked, surprising her. She jerked her head up.

"Of course."

"Still care about politics? Things happening in the world?"

"Yes."

"Still listen to the same music?"

"Yes."

"Still have an obnoxiously close relationship with your mother?" At this she flinched. "Oh," he said. Her mouth twisted. "That's why you're living with your grandparents."

"Not anymore," she spoke up. He looked at her.

"Not anymore?" he repeated.

"Not after tonight. Logan will know where to find me. He'll want to find me, after he sobers up. He'll buy me another Birkin bag or something." She snorted. "That stupid thing. I thought I loved it." She gazed at him. "I'm not going back."

"Your stuff…" Jess protested weakly.

"I'm coming with you."

"Where?"

"Wherever you are."

"You're coming with me?"

"Don't you want me to?"

"You're coming with me." This time it was a statement of fact.

**A/N: Still working on my other stories; don't fret!**


End file.
